White eyeballs

Centered in a murky puddle

From place to place the black dot crawls

They see a shack

They see a sack

They see a feather

Underneath the hat

Of an angry globe

Cooking on the stove

An unhealthy dish

Of politics

And catfish

Visions

Of unique pigeons

Being locked in cages

All ages

The only ones who

Hold the keys

Are the

Worker bees

Of unequal opportunity

Freedom of expression

Has become a

Side effect of depression

Any eyes

Of a different hue

Are dyed to

Look like stew

In a pot

Of news

That he and she

Must be look-alikes

To you

And you

And you too